Page 62 of Switch Pitching

I wake up to the sound of muffled cursing. Cracking one eye open, I spot Ethan by his side table, rubbing his wrists with a frustrated expression.

“What are you doing?” I mumble, still half-asleep.

Ethan freezes. “Uh, nothing. Just getting dressed.”

The dim light makes it hard to see and I squint at him, noticing the way he’s trying to pull the sleeves of his gray long-sleeve t-shirt down over his hands. “You’ve got all day to get dressed. Why are you up so early?”

Ethan hesitates and then sighs. “No reason. Couldn’t sleep.”

Something about his tone catches my attention, and I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Are you sure about that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan shifts uncomfortably, shoving his wrists into a drawer, but not before I catch a glimpse of red marks around them. I blink, putting the pieces together.

A grin spreads across my face. “Dude, are your wrists chafed from yesterday?”

Before I can finish the thought, Ethan makes an aggravated, mortified noise. “Maybe.” He doesn’t look me in the eye.

I can’t hold it in and I burst out laughing, curling up into a ball under the covers.

“Holy shit, I seriously did a number on you,” I say, wiping my tears with a blanket that smells like Ethan.

He glares at me. “Shut up before I tieyouto the bed.”

I try to stop giggling but it’s no use. This is too funny. “Hey, I’m not judging,” I manage to choke out. “I’m still getting over how filthy you got last night,” I tease.

Ethan rolls his eyes, his wrists still hidden in the sex drawer.

“Wegot filthy,” he counters. “Don’t try and tell me you didn’t like it.”

Grinning at him, I catch my breath and shake my head. “I’m glad you had a good time, but if you’re trying to avoid awkward questions, you should cover those wrists up before our practice later today.”

Ethan huffs and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh too. “Yeah. I’ll figure something out.”

He grabs a roll of athletic tape from his bag, swiftly wrapping it around his wrists. “This should do the trick,” he mutters, concentrating on making sure the tape is convincing.

I lean back against the headboard, still grinning. “Smart. Just make sure you don’t draw too much attention. The last thing you need is the guys asking questions.”

Ethan finishes with the tape and fixes me with a stare that’s a mix of annoyance and amusement. “I can’t believe I’m dealing with this right now.”

I chuckle, giving him a playful nudge. “Hey, this is mostly your fault, I wasn’t the one giving all those instructions.” Imitating Ethan, I lower my voice. “James, make ‘em tighter. I can still bend my arms.”

Ethan chucks the roll of tape at me. “I didnotsay that,” he almost yells, looking away. He’s totally embarrassed, but I stillsee faint traces of a suppressed laugh tugging at the corner of his lips.

Smiling back, I pick up the tape and toss it back onto the nightstand. “Are yousure?”

Ethan narrows his eyes, and I can see he’s trying not to laugh. “I always save those requests for the second time,” he says with a wink.

“You want that again, even though you know how mean I can be?”

He rolls his eyes, and there’s a brief pause before I sit up.

“Do you want breakfast?” I ask, changing the subject and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

“Hell yeah.”

I prepare a simple breakfast for a grateful Ethan, and then we get ready before heading to practice. The late-morning sun is blazing down, Boston is buzzing, and it’s peaceful.

When we arrive at the ballpark, a few of the guys are already on the field, warming up with some light stretches and tosses. Ethan and I head over to our usual spot near the dugout, and as soon as we start stretching, I notice him trying to keep his wrists out of sight, hiding them under the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s subtle, but I can tell he’s on edge.

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